


Last Rites

by twodimensionaltrash



Series: The Chaldea Collection [3]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, During Canon, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-30 21:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17231690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twodimensionaltrash/pseuds/twodimensionaltrash
Summary: Companion material to Chaldea, Collected based at the end of the Seventh Singularity: Solomon. Following the collapse of the 72 Demon Pillars, the Master of Chaldea experiences inner turmoil and requires the support of the servants that followed them to the final battle.





	1. Pillars of Strength

**Author's Note:**

> I've taken liberties with Gudako in these, focusing on introspection and self-awareness in her situation. This is based roughly on my own "experiences" as the Master of Chaldea in the Final Singularity. This Guda is anxious, annoyed, and angry at her situation and it reflects in her interactions with the 5 Servants that came to each of the final battles with Solomon/Goetia. 
> 
> For reference, the characters who will be featured are in the tags.

Mash’s shield stands alone on the battlefield. The runes carved into the face of the shield glow brighter than my eyes can take, but fade to gray. It’s out of my reach, far enough that I can’t get to it on my own without getting killed.

The twinkling remains of Romani Archaman... Solomon, the King of Mages... disappear. He sets his hand upon Mash’s shield and smiles. He doesn’t look at me until it’s too late. His last motion is a wave goodbye.

Transmissions back to Chaldea fail to connect. It’s for the best. I’d choke on my words if I could speak. 

My hands shake at my sides. I wonder how much more there is for me to lose?

Goetia eyes me from the other side of the Throne. He tilts his monstrous head, and his antlers crackle like logs in a bonfire. He cackles, and it echoes louder than the battles all around us.

There is no battle I was less ready for than this one. His desire to end endings is reasonable, sort-of. I don’t blame him for wanting to improve the planet that he was in-part responsible for. I wish his methods didn’t involve using humanity as fuel for a metaphorical rocket ship to turn back in time, but collateral damage happens in these situations. Each of my adversaries in the Grand Order had a goal, and I understood where they were coming from. Not even the worst of enemies felt evil, even when they were in the process of trying to kill me. 

Here, now, it all feels so heavy. The sacrifices of Mash, Roman, and the Servants fighting for me will be for nothing if I fail. There has to be someone more qualified to do this. I have no right to be here. This is not my fight. 

My legs tingle to the point of numbness. Do I have legs? Or hands, for that matter? I don’t remember. My muscles quiver under the weight and it’s all so heavy and I don’t know what I did to end up here. Why did Mash and Roman leave me? I don’t want to be alone. I’m so scared. It’s so dark everywhere. I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this. I’m a failure. I came all this way for nothing. I don’t deserve to be here I--

A wave of white cloth wraps around me. I’m yanked to the side without warning. I stumble and fall behind Berserker, whose God Hand shields me from one of Goetia’s blasts. 

“Master, you need to focus,” Merlin says. “You can’t zone out in the open.”

Ozymandias raises his pyramid as a fortress for the team. Gilgamesh, the Wise King, reinforces those protections.

The Wise King commands the others. “Destroy the structure that his throne sits on. Use the environment to isolate him from the remaining tentacles. Absorb the energy from his attacks into the pyramid and prepare to fire.”

Muddy tendrils writhe in the ground, causing it to shake. Glowing red eyeballs shriek. The Throne is angry.

Gilgamesh, King of Heroes, approaches and waves Merlin away. “Take care of the others while they are still standing. Make sure the pyramid does not fall until the final attack is ready.” 

Merlin glares at him. “I can’t leave her alone here. She should be protected.” 

“That is why we have a fortress providing temporary safety. They’re stalling for time that we do not have.”

As he says this, the surrounding structure rumbles in response to a devastating blow from Goetia.

“If Master falls here, the battle is lost. We will disappear. Humanity will be gone.”

I don’t appreciate the reminder. All deaths leading up to this point already feel like my fault. I could have saved them. I still could. But I can’t. I won’t, I’m not capable of it.

The King of Heroes sneers. “I am well aware of her condition. Do not make it worse by discussing mortality now. Make yourself useful and support the others.”

I stare up at the King of Heroes and the Wizard. Their eyes lock in a mutual glare for a long second. The sound of fired projectiles rips them out of it. Merlin gives me the same apologetic smile Roman did, and it makes me nauseous. He hurries to the Wise King’s side, and the two of them negate the coming missiles.

The King of Heroes plants a hand on my head. I cringe and reel back. Even though I’m used to it, it feels foreign. I don’t want to be touched. I don’t deserve to be supported.

He pulls me against his chest and forces a hug upon me. “You’ve done well to make it this far, Master,” he says. “I’m impressed. And so is everyone else.”

I hear Ozymandias chant spells in the background. Berserker roars in response. The Wise King laughs and Merlin groans. 

I wish Gilgamesh would shut up so the urge to scream goes away. I don’t want to be here. I’m terrified. I could’ve been incinerated already and I’d be none the wiser to all of this.

“You make that same face every time you’re overwhelmed. Your eyes grow large and you turn into a walking corpse. It’d be pitiful if it wasn’t concerning.”

He rests his chin on my head. Maybe he’s thinking of what a shit Master I am. I’m never going to be worthy of all that he and the other Servants have done for me. It’s about time that Death comes for me after all these close calls I’ve had. 

I invite Death to come get me. I’m waiting to join Mash and Dr. Roman.

“From the day I arrived you showed an unwavering desire to defy the odds and achieve ridiculous goals. You demanded respect from others and treated them with the same. I hoped you would stop acting like a humanistic fool, so self-righteous and indignant.”

“You’re not helping,” I tell him. “I am anything but righteous right now. I don’t want to be here. I want to get incinerated with the rest of humanity.”

He snickers. “Have you ever wanted to be here?”

“No, I haven’t. My friends are dead because of me. I’m alone. I don’t know what to do. I don’t deserve to be here and I--” He lets me go and I regain my balance against a nearby broken column.

He folds his arms and looks down at me with his trademark shit-eating stare of superiority. “You have not yet earned the right to grieve, mongrel.”

My stomach turns. I cover my mouth and sequester the coming vomit. I want to cry. Shriek. End this battle. Take my own life. Anything to make it stop.

“Your strength belongs to the servants you brought to this battle.”

I brought 6 Servants to this battle, and one of them is gone forever. Gilgamesh, his Caster form, Ozymandias, Merlin, and Heracles all followed me to their own demise. They will die just like Mash and there’s nothing that I can do about it.

“If you feel as though you do not deserve us, earn our efforts here. It’s the least you can do. You have no right to take the sacrifices of your friends for granted, nor do you have my permission to fail.”

The filth of the Throne melts around me. I feel like my heart is going to stop. I slam my fist against the stone I rest on. A cut opens up along the side of my hand. 

“I don’t need your permission. I’ve already failed. Mash. Doctor Roman. You. Everyone. You’re all fucked because of my incompetence. All of human history is fucked because of me and I can’t--”

“Enough,” the King of Heroes says. He holds a hand up in front of my face, as if to silence me. I want to rip his arm off. “This is your fight. Prove your worth to us once more. Should you succeed, I will dust you off myself when you climb out from the rubble.”

“And when I fail?”

He grins, and the Gate of Babylon opens up around us. The golden portals ripples in the open air. Noble Phantasms aim at me with menacing intent. They squeal like swords becoming unsheathed. I hear my heart pounding throughout my body and my ears swell.

“You have yet to disappoint me. Do not make this the first time.”


	2. It Will Be I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Pharaoh keeps his promise, and expects the same in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from [this meme.](https://i.redd.it/v2lz1joc2c721.png) Following this chapter, I'm going to be exploring the battle and the unique mechanics of each of the team members during the fight with Goetia. This will end up highlighting Merlin, CasGil, and Heracles in particular in battle since I already touched on Gil and Ozy. I'm looking forward to writing combat and showing my shitty master's good side.

The King of Gods, Pharaoh Ozymandias, leers down at me from his throne with his chin rested on his fist. His hair is standing up on its edges, as it often does when he is under pressure. He drums his fingers on the seat’s golden armrest.

I haven’t said anything yet, but it feels like he knows what I want to say. I have confided my troubles in him before, and he has been nothing but supportive since his arrival at Chaldea. 

I hear his nails tapping from my place at his feet. “If you intend on ending your journey here,” he says, “I have no interest in you.”

I open my mouth to protest, but I crumble. My cheeks burn. I hang my head. I can feel the Pharaoh’s unamused gaze. He doesn’t need to tell me I’ve disappointed him. The fact I even considered letting the efforts of my friends go to waste makes me unworthy. Coming to the right conclusion was harder than I want to admit. 

“In each battle that the Master of Chaldea fought at my side, I never questioned their resolve or their desire to succeed. If you stand before me and waver at this critical moment, you are not my master. I, and the others, will continue without you. As will humanity.”

I hear Goetia’s strikes slam against the pyramid, and the structure rumbles in response. The walls quiver, the ground shakes, but it does not break. I wish, I think, that I was like this fortress. I want to be invincible, too, and never get hurt. 

I’ve lost so much. There’s still more to do. Even if I give my best, I’ll probably still fail. I made it this far. I’ve overcome but I can’t convince myself that I’ll make it. Why am I like this? 

Words fall out of my mouth. “I don’t want to fail.”

I didn’t know I could talk. I sound so far away, like I’m underwater. I hear the cloth of Ozymandias’s robe rustle, and his sandals tap against the tiled floor of the throne room. Incoherent ramblings keep coming out of my mouth, but my voice doesn’t sound right. 

“I don’t want to fail, Pharaoh. I don’t want to fail.” I feel the waterworks coming on. I snuff up the snot threatening to come out of my nose. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die here. Not like this. I don’t want to disappoint Mash and Roman. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I feel like I already lost. How am I supposed to defeat that  _thing_?” 

The Pharaoh’s feet appear in my line of vision, and I quiet. Dirt cakes his skin and the hem of his pants, and it’s thick enough that I can see it against the black fabric. That dirt is my fault. I’m worse than that dirt. The pyramid shakes again, and Ozymandias catches a pebble of limestone that bounces off my head. It occurs to me that the fortress could stand against Goetia’s assault forever, but humanity would pay the price. 

“It is not you that will defeat the Beast,” he says. “It is I. Make no mistake, Master. It is you that serves the heroes that have followed you here.”

I am reminded of my conversation with the King of Heroes, and I notice how loud his argument with his Caster form is outside. The slamming of tentacles and beams of energy into the fortress are grow louder. It sounds like the entire structure of Ars Paulina is crumbling and taking the pyramid with it.

“You are a weak magus. You act as a vessel that anchors servants to the present. You have nearly sacrificed all of human history for your own selfish fears. The fight outside continued every moment you wasted waiting in here.”

Right. Humanity’s last hope needs a stern talking-to.

“...Let the fear of failure push you to succeed. Let your desperation drive you to never disappoint another. So long as you choose to continue the course you set, you have done right by all. No man will have the right to discount what you have accomplished.”

I peek up just enough to see his smile. His expression does not pass judgment, and I am overwhelmed with gratitude. Butterflies fill my stomach, and flutter up through my chest. I feel small, but I feel sure, and I raise my head to face him.

The Pharaoh materializes a hand-cloth from thin air and offers it to me. I sniffle and wipe my face on my sleeve. “Thank you.” 

He snatches a piece of the pyramid out of the air as it falls. He crushes it in his fingers, grinning wildly. “It is nothing. Humanity is mine to watch over, and you are no exception.” The walls shake violently once again and Ozymandias scrunches his face. “I suppose that is our cue to return to the battlefield.”

He beckons me to follow him as he leaves the throne room and I trace his footsteps through the labyrinth. We approach the exit--a stone slab that rolls away as though from a certain man’s tomb. The voices of Merlin and both of Gilgamesh’s forms shout loud enough to drown out Heracles’s roars. 

“It is time,” Ozymandias says.

A swell of confidence fills my chest. 

Yes. Here I am, so small and so sure. Insignificant, and somehow carrying the weight of the world. Such is the way of man, I suppose.

“Reinforce the walls of your Noble Phantasm,” I order. “I have a plan.”

Ozymandias smiles and summons his shepherd’s crook. “I expect your commands to bring victory, Master. Do not look away, and watch as I save this world I rule! ...with your assistance.”


	3. Battle Continuation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shitty Master of Chaldea enters the fray! We battle Goetia now and talk to Merlin. I didn’t bother editing this yet but I’ll probably come back and tweak it in the morning. Enjoy!
> 
> I really don't like writing self-inserts but I really enjoy writing from my Guda's POV and she's basically a self-insert and I'm so torn because she sucks.

We can’t stall out this fight. There is a limited amount of mana I’m able to supply atop Ars Paulina’s network. Goetia’s strength keeps growing. His blows, and those of the tentacles, are becoming real threats. 

If I get hit, I’m dead. I need to keep moving. Staying in one place will kill me, but moving will kill me, too, so I have a lack of options. But I need to protect the Servants. If I lose them, there is no chance of victory. 

“Pharaoh! Protection from Ra!” I command. 

I can’t hear him over the throes of battle, but I can see him mouthing the words to his spell. He takes a direct hit to the stomach from one of Goetia’s missiles. It doesn’t have the chance to bleed. He casts Imperial Privilege and it heals over. 

The Great Temple Complex is already charging a beam of energy to break through Goetia’s defenses, but the structure is damaged. We can’t afford to lose it.

“King Gilgamesh!” I call out. Archer and Caster both glance over their shoulders at me. I feel my eye twitch and I wipe my face in my hand. We definitely don’t have time for this. “Activate Sovereign of the Magic Wands and King’s Return. Gil, absorb Critical Potential. Everyone gather charge. Save all Charisma for the final strike.”

Archer snickers. He opens more portals to the Gate of Babylon aimed at Goetia. Caster throws out his spells and Archer catches them. Heracles continues being the most reliable hero to ever exist and protects the fragile front-line from Goetia’s power.

It’s going to take all Noble Phantasms and enhancements to break through Goetia’s defenses. He needs to go down in a single chain of attacks otherwise he’ll keep recovering. Prolonging that is only going to get us killed.

A stray projectile passes our defenses and it heads directly for me. I run like fucking hell, and I can hear the Heroic Spirits yelling at me to move but I can’t go faster and the blast strikes the ground next to me. I lock my arms behind my head to protect my neck as I roll across the rocks. When I stop tumbling, I’m still alive.

Alright. That’s all that matters. I’m not dead yet.

I roll onto my stomach and look up. From my place on the ground I can see Goetia’s positioning change. His Noble Phantasm is about to fire. He’s overcharged. I hear his voice in my head chanting Solomon’s ritual, using his false Noble Phantasm. The Servants aren’t ready for it. I need to protect them.

I try to fire Gandr but the Mystic Code sparks, and the ability fizzles. The Combat Uniform is torn. Gaping holes all over expose scrapes and bruises and burns, and wow, this is going to hurt when the stinging stops. My eyes sting from all the dust, and maybe I’m crying. 

God do I wish Mash and Roman were here.

I bury my face in my arms and prepare to withstand the blow. 

A white glow passes through my fortress and flowers spawn from the dirt. I peek up, and the entire platform is covered in a fluffy field. A tower shines in the distance. Right. This is the Garden of Avalon, Merlin’s Noble Phantasm. He’s firing it off early. 

Warm air presses down on me, and I feel a mix of anxiety and the urge to sleep. I need to get up, but I don’t want to, and I don’t know if I can. Sinners like me don’t belong here, do they? The Garden protects me nonetheless.

The Servants are surrounded by thick glowing shields. I can barely see them through the luminescent coating. Illusion? I don’t know if it’ll withstand Goetia’s false Noble Phantasm. I hope it does. I hope they survive. I probably won’t.

A shadow casts over me. I turn my head and my vision is filled by the Wizard’s cloak flutters around his feet. How did he get it back? I had it this whole time and it got destroyed. I suppose I shouldn’t ask questions. In his hands is Mash’s shield. He holds it out to me. 

“Master,” he says, “This is yours now.”

I shake my head, brushing against my shredded Mystic Code. “No can do.”

He plants the the shield in the ground, standing it up in front of me. “Miss Kyrielight may not be with us, but this is still the impenetrable shield of Camelot. It will protect you if you let it.”

“It can do whatever it wants. I can’t do shit right now.”

He kneels down and runs his hand through my hair. He tucks his fingers under my chin and tilts it up so I have to look at him. I am too drained to protest. 

“You have fought well, Master. I’m proud of you. Nobody could have predicted how far you’ve come.”

I wonder if he means that. I offer him a smile. “Hearing that from a Grand Caster is quite the honor. Thank you.” He leans in, too close for comfort, and presses his forehead to mine. “Is this how you siphon energy from humans?”

He breaks into laughter but doesn’t move away. “I was hoping you would permit me to take from you to reinforce the protections I’m providing.”

“I’m weak right now. This seems predatory.”

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “My intentions are pure this time.”

At this point there’s no value that I can offer the Servants and I need to be kept alive at any expense. If I have any mana left, in my circuits or this Mystic Code, giving it up is the best I can do. 

If I go down, humanity is fucked. But honestly all I can think about is laying in these flowers and taking history’s longest nap. 

“I have a feeling at least one Heroic Spirit will be upset if I kiss you.”

“I have a feeling the incineration of humanity, including you, will make at least one Heroic Spirit even more upset.” Merlin brushes his nose over mine. “I’m sorry, Master.” 

He presses his lips to mine in a feather-light kiss. My skin tingles and a wave of rejuvenation flushes the pain out of my body. Thoughts swim in my head and I can’t tell if I’m sinking. I imagine incubi have to have an ability like this to keep prey from escaping. 

When he pulls back, I regain clarity. I don’t hurt anymore. I feel well enough to push myself up to my knees. I hack up blood and the flowers below turn red. Gross. 

“Are the others here?”

"Everyone finds peace in Avalon.” 

“Will your Illusion block that Noble Phantasm?”

Merlin rubs the back of his head and looks away. “Probably not. When we return we’ll likely be crushed.”

“Excellent.” I cough more and rub my throat. “Great. Wonderful. What are the odds I survive that?”

“Low.”

A pit opens in my stomach. I look over at Mash’s shield. Even if I hide behind the Round Table itself I’m probably screwed. 

“That’s alright,” I say. “As soon as the Garden is down, chain Charismas.” I crawl over to the shield and prop my back against its inside. I pretend it’s Mash leaning over me. 

“Yes, Master.”

“Have the Wise King use his Noble Phantasm, followed by Ozy. Tell him to use Plan B. Herc’s Battle Continuation should keep him in long enough to deal the finishing blows.”

“What about the King of Heroes?”

“Save Enuma Elish for last. If Gil has to pull out Ea, give him Hero Creation. That should be the last resort. I don’t want to rip apart Roman’s Throne and I don’t want to put everyone else at risk.”

“If it saves humanity, does it matter if Servants die here?” Merlin asks. 

“No.” I shake my head and exhale slowly. “I just don’t want to go through the trouble of summoning you all again. I’ve been fortunate to have the heroes I do join me at Chaldea. Losing you guys would hurt more than losing to that thing.”

Merlin purses his lips. “If you lose here you’ll never have existed to meet us all, so you won’t have much a choice.”

I’m getting tired of these guys making sense. It’s like they exist to provide one-liners in a poorly written skit.

“How long have we been here?” I ask between coughs. “Feels like it’s been forever.”

“Less than a minute. Once it dissipates, we will be back in the center of battle.”

I lean back into the shield of Camelot. I shift around to get comfortable and try to relax. “Alright. I’m ready when you are.”


End file.
